Fade In, Fade Out
by RayWritesThings
Summary: Pretending to be her deceased doppelganger has as many drawbacks as it does benefits, so Black Siren decides it's time to really switch things up on her enemies and allies alike. Oliver is confronted with his true feelings once again and must finally make a choice. / Season 6 AU
1. Chapter 1

**So this fix-it was the result of a discussion over on the Lauriver discord. I want to thanks everyone over there who participated and who help me when it comes to fact-checking a lot about the later seasons. If anyone reading this fic is interested in joining the Lauriver server, please PM me for a link to join. The title of this fic is borrowed from a M*A*S*H episode of the same name. **

**Some housekeeping for this fic: 1. Flashpoint changed things so that E1 Laurel also always had a meta Cry, as I always found it weird that the criteria for her "replacement" was a meta Cry when E1 Laurel was never given one. So for this AU, she has it and for all intents and purposes to characters other than time travelers like Barry, has always had it. 2. Oliver and Felicity are not officially married in this AU. It will get delved into a little bit in this first chapter as to what their relationship status is, but just know the reception thing where Quentin gave Oliver his watch and stuff has not happened, and they do not have a marriage license.**

**I have the structure of the second part to this planned out (as well as a tie-in oneshot to conclude E2 Laurel's story in this AU) but it is not written yet, so I'm not sure when it will be completed. At any rate, I hope you enjoy this first part, and thanks for reading!**

**Fade In, Fade Out  
Chapter One**

Laurel Lance, formerly of Earth 2, had a problem. Well, several problems. Actually, they were all the same problems she'd had before, only now they were even more compounded by the precarious position she'd placed herself in. Namely, impersonating a dead woman.

It had been the best way to ensure she could no longer be held by this or that group in this or that cell. She'd been tired and hurting and so, so fed up with it all. So she'd let herself finally do the one thing she'd been avoiding for almost two years now: be seen.

Now she was Laurel Lance, miraculously rescued darling of Star City. A former ADA with a sterling reputation and a loving family and friends. How nice.

While it had bought her a temporary reprieve, it was clear this had not solved all her problems the way she'd hoped it might. Diaz was still sending his men sniffing around to threaten her and her doppelganger's father. The bitch in the Black Canary suit was still breathing down her neck, probably barely holding back thanks to her team. And this Earth's Oliver was continuing his sanctimonious bull about caring one minute then pulling back the next and pretending as if they were perfect strangers.

He was worried she was going to ruin his Laurel's reputation. Maybe she should, since he'd pretty thoroughly wrecked her own image of Ollie, try as she might to maintain him in her mind. But doing anything too out of character for this Earth's Laurel would just put her right back into danger.

Her old way of doing things had lacked security, but now it was hard for her to make any kind of move thanks to public scrutiny. She needed to be able to get away; a new fresh start on this godforsaken Earth. But she needed to keep Diaz and all her other enemies looking one way while she snuck off in the other direction. But how to do it?

And then, it turned out, the opportunity presented itself.

Quentin, her doppelganger's father, took a call late one night. It was from this Earth's Thea Queen, who was apparently saying goodbye.

"And Nyssa thinks there's more of these Pits? Well that's, that's something… I've never even heard of these places you're saying. Ojos del — well, whatever you said. And where's that Kamchatka, that sounds — oh, Russia. Yeah, I wouldn't have guessed that. Well, you'll be seeing a lot more of the world than most people do."

Laurel sat there, not really reading the law book he had pressed on her for the umpteenth time. If they were talking about a Pit, was this that magic Pit thing that wasn't supposed to exist anymore? The one that brought people back from the dead or whatever? The dead were dead, no matter if you came to a whole separate Earth and met them again.

_That's something,_ he'd said, with such a wistful tone to his voice. She knew exactly what he was thinking, and it burned in her gut, angry and jealous despite it all. If he wanted _his_ Laurel back, why didn't he go do it instead of trying to force her to be her? Ugh, it sounded confusing even in her own head.

But as she glowered across the room at him while he talked to the other Thea on that phone, she took him in. Old, thin, frail as he was, he could never make that kind of journey. Great, now she was feeling pity, too.

The more she thought about it, though, the more she realized that these Pits still being active _was_ something. Something that could help her, too. If she wanted everyone's eyes off her, why not give them something else to look at? Watch the birdie.

Laurel took out her phone and made liberal use of autocorrect and suggested search to find the information she needed about Kamchatka. Then she started searching for plane tickets.

Later, after Quentin was sleeping, Laurel went out that night to the cemetery with a shovel, hoping to God this wasn't part of some officer's beat. There was nothing much she could do once she'd dug up the casket besides shovel the dirt back on top and pack it down. Maybe people would assume the casket had been removed since she wasn't supposed to be underground anymore. And now her doppelganger wasn't either.

Getting her on a plane wasn't too difficult, but God was she glad she'd borrowed some money from Quentin so she could hire some help to carry the thing up the mountain.

"I want to see the springs," she told her guides. "The ones off the beaten path. You know what I mean, right?" If there were rumors about these Pits, they had to come from somewhere.

The two exchanged glances. "No one goes to those springs now."

"And why not?" Damnit, had the idiots already destroyed this one?

"There are men. They guard the springs jealously."

Oh. The other guys. Right. Tommy's weird evil dad's minions or whatever.

Laurel shrugged. "I think I can handle myself. You two wait here with my birdcage." Leaving them to exchange perplexed glances, Laurel turned and continued her march through the mountain range.

It was funny. She could have wandered around here for days without finding it, except that, two hours into that, out of the shadows leapt a man in ninja gear. That kind of blew the whole thing, didn't it?

Laurel knocked him right off the cliff with her scream, then twisted the arm of his buddy who tried to attack her from behind, getting possession of his sword and stabbing him in the gut with it. He dropped to his knees, cursing in some foreign tongue while Laurel examines her new sword.

"Not my style, usually, but I think I'm gonna keep this. Thanks."

He didn't reply. Probably because he was dead. Well, she'd at least made this easier for Speedy and Friends whenever they showed up.

She found the casket abandoned on the path by the time she got back. Huh. Maybe she should have paid those guys extra. Quentin wasn't made of money, though. No matter how much he was going to owe her once this whole thing was done.

Few things sucked more than carrying a dead body up a mountain by yourself. One of the things that _did_ suck more was carrying a dead body that looked _exactly like you_ up a mountain by yourself. Laurel did her best to keep her eyes on the path as she put one step forward after the other. When she finally found the crevice in the rocks that led into the springs, she sighed in relief.

This was definitely the place. The ninjas had set up a small encampment to the side of the cave, and in the center bubbled a mysterious-looking water.

"This better work," Laurel muttered to herself, then unceremoniously dumped the body into the waters with a splash that had her quickly backing away to avoid the droplets.

What would it be like, meeting the fabled Perfect Laurel? Was it rose-tinted glasses that had everyone on this Earth making her out to be a saint?

She paced the edge, waiting for some kind of sign she hadn't been duped. The waters had gone totally still. What the hell was she going to have to do, fish her doppelganger out? She hadn't even brought a net.

Then the waters started bubbling again like someone had flipped the switch for the hydro-jets. She slowed, laying a hand on the hilt of her new sword.

With no warning, the previously dead body made an impossible leap from the waters, landing in a crouch with her hair hanging in her face like a wet curtain.

"Shit," Laurel breathed to herself.

Her doppelganger's head snapped up, eyes wild and mouth snarling. Certainly nothing like a saint. She had a split second to recognize the pulling back of her lips for what it was before she was ducking to avoid a sonic scream. She retaliated, catching her disoriented doppelganger in the side and sending her rolling across the cave floor. She didn't get up.

Laurel listened to make sure they hadn't caused some kind of cave-in, but it sounded like the rock was holding. Then she crept over to see if she'd accidentally killed the other woman again. The rise and fall of her chest said she was still breathing. Good.

What the hell had the whole wild woman act been, though? Was it permanent? What was she going to do with her if it was?

It was weird watching herself. Laurel paced to the other side of the Pit and stood against the wall, waiting.

She'd give her doppelganger half an hour before she just placed the return plane ticket at her feet and took off.

Laurel, always of Earth 1 and formerly dead, shivered as she came to, rolling onto her side and curling in on herself with cold. She was soaked to the skin and exposed to the open air of whatever this place was. Her ears were also ringing. She shook her head, feeling her damp hair sticking to the side of her face.

"Ugh."

"You said it."

Laurel blinked and looked around. How had she heard her _own_ voice come from another direction?

Leaning against a rocky wall was her. Or, it looked exactly like her. "What is this?" Was it some kind of illusion? A person that could mimic appearances. Though while this other her was dressed in sensible gear for what looked like hiking a mountain, she discovered she was in one of her nicer but rather thin dresses. God, it was _freezing._

"What do you remember?" The other her asked.

"Talking to Oliver?" She'd been trying to encourage him, because she'd known he was probably beating himself up about her getting hurt, and then everything went kind of fuzzy after that. She thought she could remember him shouting for someone…

"Ugh, of course you do," the other her said, rolling her eyes. "Okay, basically you've been dead for about two years—"

"Wait, _what_?"

"And I just brought you back. You're welcome! Only took your own doppelganger from another Earth to get the job done."

Her doppelganger. _That's_ what this was. So she was from Earth 2, she was pretty sure Team Flash had called it. Where they there now? It would explain why there was what had to be a Lazarus Pit to the right of her even though Nyssa had destroyed the one at Nanda Parbat.

"Why did you bring me back?" There was something about this other her's attitude that suggested it wasn't strictly out of the kindness of her heart. She reminded Laurel uncomfortably of some of her worst behaviors in the midst of her spiral.

Her doppelganger smiled, and it definitely wasn't nice. "Smart question. See, I've been trying to live my life on this Earth for the last almost two years, but things keep getting in the way. Mostly the people from your life. So I figure if I give them _you_ back, they won't keep bothering me. We're even, see?"

There was so much she wasn't being told, and she wished that wasn't a new feeling. "You've been pretending to be me?"

"Only for a little bit. Hey, at least you don't have to come up with a story for the press as to how you're still alive. Someone can fill you in on the cover. I'm heading out of here and do _not_ follow me." Her doppelganger hefted a duffle bag higher on her shoulder.

"How am I supposed to get home from wherever this is?" She gestured down again her bare feet and lack of possessions.

The other her grumbled impatiently. "Here, take some of this stuff." She grabbed a pair of black boots and a League-standard tunic from a small pile near the other end of the cave they were in. Laurel hurried to put both on, not really caring to ask who they typically belonged to when it meant she could finally warm up a little.

A passport hit her in the face. Then a printed out boarding pass came flying, which she caught before it could smack her as well.

"Tag, you're it," her double said. "_And_ I guess you can have your dad's credit card back."

Laurel straightened back up. "You stole his—"

"Of course I did. I'm getting his precious daughter back for him, so what's he going to miss a few hundred bucks for? I only bought plane tickets and a guided tour, calm down."

Laurel did not calm down, and instead marched over to her double and snatched the card from her lose grasp. "You might think the snarky act helps protect you from other people hurting you, but let me tell you from experience that it just hurts worse watching everyone walk away."

Her double glared, leaning into her space. "You don't know anything about me."

"I _am_ you. Or I was." Laurel shook her head. "Why have you even been staying on this Earth? Haven't you got your own?"

"And nothing there to return to." She could see in the mirror image of her own eyes a deep-set pain and sadness. Laurel wanted desperately to ask, but she had a feeling she wasn't supposed to be seeing it at all.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

"Look, there's no point to this. We can't _both_ be you, unless we want to pretend you've been lying about being an identical twin your whole life," her doppelganger finally said. "I'm leaving. Wait five minutes, then head down the mountain path. There's a little touristy station set up at the bottom, and they can direct you to the airport."

"You're really just going to lay low the rest of your life on some totally strange Earth?"

"About the only option I have left. Believe me, I'm looking forward to semi-retirement." With that, her double turned and walked out of the cave, with not even a snarky goodbye to show for it. Laurel winced; she'd been pretending to be her? Did the others know, or did they all think she'd come back from the dead with that attitude?

She had no watch, so Laurel guessed at five minutes and headed down the path. Sure enough, the tourist trap at the bottom of the mountain did have information on transportation to the nearest airport. She also discovered she was in Eastern Russia.

Laurel prioritized getting to the airport over getting access to a phone. Her flight was pre-scheduled, after all. She bought some new clothes for herself before boarding so she didn't have to come into the Star City airport looking like a terrorist. Thankfully, her father hadn't cancelled his credit card. She'd pay him back, assuming she still had a job.

She couldn't believe she was really back from the dead. Around nothing but strangers, it didn't feel real. She also couldn't sense anything like the bloodlust Thea had had, but she wasn't really experiencing anything that might trigger her anger. But she'd need to figure out if there was a way to get more of that Lotus sooner rather than later.

Thea, her father, the team and Ollie, how were all of them? What had she missed in her years of being dead? Did they miss her or think about her at all? It would be selfish of her to wonder if Oliver ever thought about what she'd confessed to him, right? Even she'd known that was nothing but a memory now. Hopefully he and everyone else were just happy and safe, at least as much as they could be in their line of work.

She followed her fellow passengers out into the Star City airport, breathing a little easier now that she knew she was back in her home. No matter how much she or it changed, she'd always feel that way.

Laurel started looking for a help desk, but a hand landed on her upper arm before she could take more than two steps.

"Let's go."

Laurel froze. "Ollie?"

He looked about the same as she remembered. It had only been two years, after all. But his expression was guarded, even hostile as he looked down at her. She almost wanted to draw back from him.

"Quentin called. Whatever you've been setting up in Russia, you're going to tell me and him."

"I wasn't setting anything up. I just came back to life." It was occurring to her that he thought she was her own doppelganger, that this dislike and distrust wasn't really for her. "I'm the real me, Oliver. I'm not the other Earth one."

His eyes widened for a second, before he shut down again. "Come on." He yanked on her arm to get her moving.

He thought she was lying. Well, they were going to see her father, apparently, so she could just convince them both at the same time. It figured her own doppelganger would leave her a mess to clean up.

Oliver didn't trust himself to speak as he guided her out to the car. The fact that she wanted to try this game again, fooling him, was proof that he'd been right to doubt her attempt to turn over a new leaf. God, what was she planning to do to Laurel's reputation? Her legacy?

"Ollie, please," she said as he turned the key in the ignition. "I'm telling the truth. One minute, I was in the hospital with you and the next, I was waking up in some cave in Russia with an identical copy of myself telling me I'd been dead for two years."

"A Lazarus Pit."

"From what I could tell."

He smirked to himself, but nothing was funny. "The only Lazarus Pit my Laurel knew about was destroyed, so why would she assume she'd been resurrected with one?"

"Because I made an educated guess when I woke up soaked to the bone next to a bubbling hot spring. Why can't you ever just _believe_ me?" She demanded, and it sounded so much like her — the real her — that it tore at his heart. Oliver kept his eyes on the road.

"Because you've done this before."

"My doppelganger." Her head dropped back against the seat rest. "Oliver, I don't know what she must have done or said the past two years, but I promise that's not me. I don't want to think I could be that cruel to try and trick you like that twice."

"Then where's your other self?" He avoided describing it in a way that made it sound like he believed her. Even if everything — her tone, her inflections, the chunky knit sweater she was bundled in, just the way that she _moved_ — was perfect in a way Black Siren had never managed.

This Laurel didn't seem like she was mocking herself.

She sighed wearily. "I wish I had a better answer, but she took off. Said she wanted to get away from all of this, so she was tapping me back in."

Oliver frowned. She'd only been impersonating Laurel in the public eye for a short while. Would she really give up the visibility and protection against Diaz that Quentin kept claiming she wanted so soon? Unless — and something cold seized his heart — this _was_ the visible protection. A Laurel out there in the public eye and Diaz's sights while she ran off for who-knew-where.

Could she really be? He looked in her eyes for the first time and couldn't detect any hint of a lie. Yet somehow it still felt like he was falling into some sort of trap.

"Ollie, you're going to miss the turn," she said. "If that's still where my dad lives."

"Uh, right." He made it sharp, then pulled up outside the apartment building. He started up to his unit and she fell right into step with him without a word.

Quentin answered the door after two knocks. He'd been expecting them since he'd been able to get the number of the return flight off his credit card purchase. Oliver had volunteered to collect her in case something more was going on than a simple joyride on Quentin's money. Now he wasn't sure what to say to the man.

"So, five-hundred bucks later, how do you feel?" Quentin asked her.

"Daddy, I'm so sorry," she answered, stepping forward and wrapping him into a hug. Quentin's eyes went wide and his arms hovered in the air. He looked to Oliver.

"She's—" Oliver cleared his throat and tried again. "She's claiming to be our Laurel."

Quentin gaped. "How?"

"I can explain, I promise," She said, then looked up. "But how are you?" One of her hands rested over Quentin's chest.

"I- I'm not sure," he answered.

Oliver started ushering them all inside on the off chance one of the neighbors stepped outside and heard this. They gathered in Quentin's sitting room, Quentin on the couch, Oliver standing against the side wall and her pacing the space between couch and coffee table.

"Okay, so I guess there's a Lazarus Pit or something like it in Eastern Russia. There's this mountain range called Kamchatka."

"I was talking to your sister on the phone about that," Quentin said to him. "She — Earth 2, I mean — was in the room with me."

"I didn't see Thea or anyone else, but I think the League might have been set up there at some point," she continued. "Someone's things were left behind."

"Malcolm's people," Oliver said, and watched her nod. "He's dead, by the way."

Siren already knew that, but this Laurel's shock looked genuine. "How did it happen?"

"He took Thea's place on a landmine."

Her eyebrows raised even higher. "Contradictory to the end, then. Where's Thea now?"

"On a mission with Nyssa and Roy." He wondered if she thought she'd have better luck convincing his sister. Oliver wasn't so sure, because at the moment he badly wanted to be convinced even despite the warning voices in his head urging him to hold back.

"So your doppelganger brought you back with this Pit?" Quentin asked. "I mean, why? And why the hell didn't we think of that first?"

"The bloodlust, for one thing." Assuming she was telling the truth, this Laurel would need the Lotus cure the same as Thea had two years ago. Oliver crossed his arms. "Have you felt any symptoms?"

"Not so far. But it's only been a couple days since I came back." She looked from one of them to the other. "Do I have a grave we could check so you both feel more sure about this? I can tell you I woke up in my navy blue evening dress. It was a little cold for Russia."

"I want to believe you, honey, of course I do," Quentin said. "You have no idea what I'd give to have you back with us."

"Then just give me some trust," she said, reaching for his hands. "I'm your daughter. I almost went to work at a corporate law firm in San Francisco until you called me out because you knew that wasn't who I was. I used to race Sara up the tree in our yard, and I always let her win after the first time when I made her cry and you told me it was my job to take care of her. We went out to dinner before everything at the prison happened, and you told me you were proud of what I was doing as the Black Canary, and I finally felt like I had _made_ it somehow! Like I'd done right by you," She said, her voice wavering.

Quentin stood, one of his hands cupping her cheek. "It's really you. It has to be. Oh, my baby girl." He crushed her to him, drawing in a ragged breath as she held on just as tight. "I don't know why she did it, but I'm just so glad it's really you."

Oliver had to look away. It was too hard to watch. If this was some trick, it would only hurt all the worse once it was revealed. If this was real, then he'd been nothing but cold to her since she'd returned. Why did he always have to screw up when it came to her? He knew what he felt deep in his heart, but every time it came for him to act, he just—

"Ollie." She had come up to him at some point, and he hadn't realized he was that far into his own head. "I know I can't ask you to trust me. But you know me better than anyone."

He stared at her, willing himself to find some small thing out of place. If he didn't see it now and he let himself believe, he would be lost. He knew that much about himself. And if it was all a lie, he didn't think he could find his way back out again this time.

"What did you tell me in the hospital?" He finally asked, his voice sounding gruff to his ears.

"That you shouldn't try to take on everything alone," she said. "Even if you feel you have to to protect everyone."

She was right that those had been some of her last words, and yet he couldn't be certain that they were the only two who knew that; he himself had told Felicity, and as much as he wanted to believe she wouldn't have spread it, he didn't have that guarantee.

"And the other thing?"

She hesitated, glancing back at Quentin and licking her lips. "I told you that you were the love of my life and always would be."

He heard Quentin make some startled sound, but he was too blurry in Oliver's vision to make out any expression. He blinked a couple times, trying to clear it so that he could see her — _Laurel_ — and he stepped forward, cupping her face with both hands, and kissed her forehead.

Oliver wrapped her in a hug after, as it sunk in that he didn't have to leave this time. She was here in the real world with them. Laurel was alive, so much more than a dream.

She rested her hands at his back, seeming unsure, and he felt a fresh wave of guilt over how he had practically shunned her since finding her at the airport. He held her just a little bit tighter for a moment before finally letting her go, stepping back and running both hands over his face in an excuse to wipe at his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"No, I understand why you needed to check." Her eyes stayed more on the floor than on her father as she turned to him and asked, "Could I use your guest room for a little? The time difference is kind of catching up to me."

"Of course, honey. I, uh, had it set up for your doppelganger, but she took her things with her so it's open." The father and daughter headed back down the hall while Oliver walked over and sank onto the couch with unsteady legs.

Laurel was back. Truly. It was nearly overwhelming in its relief and yet the _enormity_ of that fact was also hitting him. How did he explain this to Thea and the others hunting to find and destroy the Pits? How did he explain this to his team, whose experiences with the Laurel they'd known ranged from bad to worse? To his son, who was aware of the hero Laurel had been — and still was, now — but who had been warned to keep away from the woman who looked like her?

Quentin returned, taking his own seat in the armchair across. "I'm dreaming, right?"

"Feels like one," Oliver agreed, knowing he had the experience to support that feeling. But there had been no strange glitches, and he was aware of all his memories, good and bad. This was all real.

"You'd think I'd get used to this. My daughters coming back, the whole world changing around us."

Oliver nodded.

"Laurel and you."

He froze and looked up, meeting Quentin's gaze. "I… needed to know it was her."

"Course you did. But I need to know things, too. Like just what your intentions are. I mean, you're practically engaged, Oliver."

He winced. "In a manner of speaking." The thought caused his heart to sink deep down into his stomach or somewhere near it. A feeling he'd been having lately when his thoughts turned to Felicity and their tentative agreement.

Tentative because, and perhaps predictably, he'd started reconsidering at perhaps the worst possible moment: after their impromptu wedding alongside Barry and Iris. He had called the speedster up after the West-Allens had taken their honeymoon, just to catch up.

"We're mostly just working on thank you cards now. Apparently super-fast writing also leads to super-fast hand cramps," Barry had told him.

"Well, feel free to skip ours. Actually, what did we get you? Felicity never said."

"Oh. It was, uh, an espresso machine."

There was something off in the way Barry had said it, the pause and then the flat tone at the end. "Is it not working?"

"No, it does. I mean, I think so. I don't actually drink much coffee since the caffeine doesn't affect me," Barry had admitted with an awkward laugh.

"Oh." Oliver had felt his cheeks redden. He'd known that, thinking back on it. Shouldn't Felicity have known that? He should have checked with her before they bought something, but she tended to take those things upon herself since she said teaching him Amazon was beyond her pay grade. "I guess Iris is making use of it?"

"A little. It wasn't, uh, it wasn't on the registry." He'd been able to visualize the uncomfortable shuffling Barry must have been doing on the other end as he spoke. "She kind of had her fill of making coffee at Jitters, you know?"

"Right." Oliver had closed his eyes, very tempted to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Could you send me the registry list? I can—"

"No, don't buy something else. It's fine. I mean, we're not upset or anything."

"About the gift," Oliver had finished for him. "But you're upset about something else." Barry wouldn't have even gone into any detail on the gift like this if something hadn't been bothering him.

"Upset's a strong word, Ollie. It's just, you know, after the wedding was crashed and we lost Professor Stein and everything else, it kind of didn't feel like our day anymore. And then we figured out a way to get some of that back and- and—"

"And we made it about us," Oliver had realized with a wave of shame. What had ever possessed him to think that would have been a good idea? Yes, Felicity had asked, but he had been the one to start using the wedding backdrop as a way to hint he thought they should move things forward, and in doing so had upstaged Barry and Iris at their own celebration.

It had been the Lance family dinner all over again, where he'd subordinated Laurel's feelings or those of Sara's parents to a relationship he and she had wanted to try and force into working. Why was he always so selfish?

"Barry, I'm sorry. I don't know what can make that up to you—"

"Look, we can just drop it, okay? What's done is done." Barry had sounded desperate to move on. "I just hope things work out for both of us, you know? We both got our dream come true."

Oliver had hesitated.

"Right?"

"Yeah. Right," he'd managed uncomfortably. Then he'd made some excuse or other and hung up the phone. He'd only felt it would have been an even lower blow to Barry to admit that his wedding hadn't been interrupted by Oliver's dream — far from it.

His dream was now sleeping just twenty feet down the hall.

Oliver dropped his head into his hands, feeling it starting to throb in his temples. He knew he loved Laurel and always would, had stopped denying that to himself over a year ago. But he was in a relationship — even a relatively chaste one since his misgivings about their not-quite wedding — with Felicity.

He'd been using William as an excuse, which wasn't fair, but what he now couldn't determine was, was it fair to William to have introduced Felicity into his life as a sort of surrogate only to end things with her? Or was his growing unhappiness in that relationship only going to teach his son a warped version of love and family?

They'd had no marriage certificate when they'd jumped in on Barry and Iris' ceremony. They still didn't. They weren't really married. And he didn't really want to ever be now. But was it right for him to start something with Felicity because he had been lonely and heartbroken, only to end it because the reason for his loneliness and heartbreak no longer existed?

"I know how I feel, I just don't know what to do," he admitted finally. Oliver jumped a little when a hand landed on his shoulder.

"Well, the first thing you gotta do is be honest with yourself and with the people in your life about how you're feeling."

"How do I do that without hurting someone?"

"Sometimes you can't," Quentin told him. "Sometimes you just can't control how people are gonna feel, Oliver. But you have to let them feel it in their own way."

He was right. He was right, and Oliver knew it. He also knew that avoiding the truth to avoid pain was one of his greatest failings. But by God, he had to get past this. Not for his sake, but for the people in his life.

"I should inform the team so they can start getting used to the idea," Oliver decided. "And I need to talk to Felicity."

She deserved an explanation, uncomfortable as it might make him to give it. He should have been honest with her about his remaining feelings for Laurel whether she was dead or alive, that it would always be a part of him. He would be honest with her now.

Oliver left the apartment, turning and heading down the block. But as he looked back over his shoulder at the building, he frowned.

The window of the guest bedroom was open.

He turned back around, walking and then breaking out into a jog. By the time he reached the hallway to Quentin's floor, he was flat-out running.

Oliver rapped on the doorframe, waiting with impatience for it to open. Quentin blinked in surprise when he did so. "What—"

"I need to check something." He walked straight back down the hall and knocked on the guest bedroom door. "Laurel?"

"You said you already checked it was her, and she's sleeping," Quentin argued.

"I'm not checking that it's her, I'm checking—" The door was unlocked and almost bounced off the wall when he threw it open.

Oliver's heart froze.

"She- she's gone!" Quentin exclaimed behind him. He brushed past Oliver, going to the window and sticking his head out. "Laurel!"

It did no good, as she hadn't been anywhere outside when he'd noticed the open window. Why had she gone? _Where_ had she gone? Whatever the reason or location, he had to find out, and fast.

He couldn't lose her again. Not this time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello all! Back with the second part to this. While it doesn't address what became of Black Siren (as some of you were wondering) I do plan to eventually write a sort of follow-up shot to cover that subject. This just wraps up what's going on for the Earth 1 characters. I also need to give a thanks and shoutout to TheWhiteWolf for beta-reading this chapter and helping me with questions/characterizations of the newer characters, most of whom I barely know. Any discrepancies are mine, regardless.**

**Two additional notes as a reminder from the first chapter: In this AU, Laurel is and was a metahuman, and the others are all aware of that. I explained my reasoning in the Author's Note of chapter 1, so I won't go back over that here. The other note is that Oliver and Felicity have not officially married and their physical relationship has petered out since about the season 6 crossover, though Oliver has yet to officially call things off. We'll see how that goes here.**

**Thanks very much for your patience, and I hope that people enjoy the conclusion to this short fixit story!**

**-RayWritesThings**

**Chapter Two**

Felicity wasn't sure what to think when Oliver practically demanded the whole team gather for an emergency meeting. He'd left abruptly that morning on an errand for Quentin without explaining why, and when she'd pinged his phone to check in on him, he'd been driving back from what could have only been the airport, judging by the direction. She'd been set to ask him about it once she got back, but she supposed she'd be getting her answers now.

And what an answer it turned out to be.

John was the first to provide the voice of reason as ever. "Oliver, we've done this before."

"I know we have, John, but I also know it's real this time. She's real," Oliver insisted. "Her doppelganger used the information Lance accidentally let slip about the other Pits, and she took her chance."

"To get away?" Dinah scowled. "If this is real, we need to track her down, not go looking for the bait she left us."

Oliver took a step towards Dinah. "Laurel is not bait."

"She is to her bitch of a doppelganger."

"Assuming they really aren't just one and the same," Curtis pointed out. "I mean, she literally did just start impersonating her Earth 1 self to the public. She might just be trying to complete the ruse on us."

"How do we know for sure Trinity's not just playing? You see them both in the same place or something?" Rene asked.

Oliver frowned. "No."

The others all exchanged looks with each other. This wasn't good. Oliver couldn't keep doing this. He would only lose the team's confidence once again. Not to mention hers.

She had thought they had lain this all to rest. That he had let Laurel go. That she wasn't still a blind spot for him, a distraction from the life he needed to be living. A life with her. His distance ever since their not-quite-wedding with Barry and Iris and now this. Was it just him retreating back into his old ways?

So Felicity stepped forward. "If you could all give us a minute?"

John nodded and made sure the others moved into the next room to offer them some privacy.

Oliver looked down. He hadn't met her eyes this whole time.

"I know you think you're doing the right thing, that this really can be true. There's no one who would love to have our Laurel back more than me! Except maybe Quentin," she realized belatedly. "And Sara. And, well, maybe her mom. Never really was clear on how they were — But Oliver, it just doesn't make sense to get our hopes up like this."

"I've explained how it happened. And I know Laurel."

"You thought you knew her doppelganger, too," she reminded him. "And I had to show you that you were wrong." She'd had to save him from that dark mirror of their friend over and over, and now he wanted to fall prey to the Siren's Song all over again.

She could tell by the set of his shoulders he was prepared to be stubborn about this. He hadn't been this stubborn in years, and she had not missed it. "That was me pushing aside my questions and doubts because I wanted to believe. This time, Laurel proved herself to me. To her father, too."

"Yes, the person most desperate for his daughter to still be alive!" She gave a short laugh. "His daughter who then apparently went right out his window and left."

Oliver shook his head. "The Pit is known to disorient people. If she left, it's because she feels lost for some reason."

"Then she clearly wants to find herself on her own." Felicity gestured back towards where the others all waited. "And you need to find yourself again before they decide to leave, too."

"That's fine if they don't want to be involved." Oliver went over to his case and took out his bow and quiver. He moved over to his table of arrows, beginning to select them for placement. "This isn't about them. But I owe it to her to try and help her through this."

Felicity barely held back a frustrated groan. He always did this. "And what about Diaz? What about the corruption in this city and how it's falling apart?" She marched up to his side. "These aren't the days where you can drop everything the minute a Laurel is in trouble, Oliver! You still haven't even explained how you know without a doubt it's her."

"She knows what she said to me before she died."

"And so do I, and the team and any number of people at this point. That isn't a secret exclusive to the two of you."

Oliver drew in a breath and set the quiver down. "I haven't been honest with you, Felicity. Not completely."

"Wow, that's a shocker. What is it this time?" She posed rhetorically, starting to pace. "A deal with the devil? A secret evil brother you never knew about?"

"I still love her."

Felicity froze. She'd expected _I still care_ or _She's important_ or any one of those placeholders for the thing he had always just held back from saying. Not this. Not the one thing she couldn't hope to compete against.

"I should have told you. You had the right to know that before resuming anything with me… but I thought it was something I would take with me to my grave." He finally did look at her, and the sincere compassion in his eyes was almost too much to stand. "I'm sorry."

She backed up a step. "You- you're lying. Or you're confused. You're just thinking this because you think she's back and everything can be all wonderful and rainbows again now that Gorgeous Laurel—"

"This isn't something I just decided. I've known it since the hospital. Since we lost her," he said. "If you can't trust my word, ask John. He knows."

Felicity felt the breath leave her. _John_ had known this and kept it from her? Had he thought it would just go away? That they could all go back to pretending?

"So I've just been what, the consolation prize? A nanny for William?"

He bowed his head. "No. I was- I've been trying to move on. For years. I thought I could do that with you, but lately… you know it hasn't been the same. We're never really happy."

"And do you think you could be happy with Laurel after _everything_ you did?" She asked stiffly. It was the only way she could steel herself against crying. She was not letting anyone see that, least of all him.

"I don't know," he answered, and it was perhaps the most honest thing he'd ever said in his life. "But I owe it to her to try. And I owe it to you to let you go like you asked of me once."

Felicity closed her eyes. "I did ask. That was… I had the right idea then, I can see that now." She turned away. "Whenever this blows up in your face, do _not_ come crying to me." She was done with this, should have been done a long time ago. But she'd been trying to be empathetic. Look where that had gotten her.

Felicity left the main room and stopped by the side room they were all waiting in. "He's hopeless."

John was now the one avoiding her gaze. "Lance called. Laurel's grave was dug up and covered back over with the dirt. He's searching the city in his car now."

Her lip trembled. Of course. Of course this had to be the _one_ time Oliver was right about anything.

"Well, good luck." She had come back to the team with Laurel's death. It only seemed fitting that she exit it with her friend's rebirth. He didn't need her anymore anyway.

Felicity got out her phone as she ascended in the elevator. If she was quick, she could have a hotel room booked and her essentials packed before William got home from recreational baseball practice. Oliver was on his own for packing the rest and explaining her departure to his son. Not to mention any bills for therapy.

She should have stuck to her convictions the first time they split. She wasn't the kind of girl who was fooled twice. And she was never going to be _his_ girl again.

It was high time Felicity Megan Smoak left all this behind and reinvented herself for the better, the same as she'd done before.

Laurel felt lost. Not physically; she knew exactly which street this was. But she felt out of place in her own life. Which she supposed was natural, considering she hadn't had one of those for nearly two years. Maybe this was why Sara just hadn't been able to stay.

Of course, Sara hadn't been brought back only to find out it had the potential to ruin the life of the person she loved.

Laurel had actually been tired when she'd asked to retire to the guest room at her father's, but she'd also known he and Oliver were far more likely to speak candidly if they thought she was out of earshot. That would be the best way to determine just what her being unexpectedly back meant to the pair of them.

Her dad had actually seemed to feel about the same as how he'd presented himself once he'd realized she was truly his daughter. But then he'd asked Oliver about his intentions, and Laurel had received the shock of her life; Oliver still had feelings for her.

It had taken everything in her not to rush back out there and ask if it was true. How had this happened? And when? She'd felt warmth and giddiness flood her system all at once.

Yet reality had settled back in. He was recommitted to Felicity. They had found each other again just as Laurel had told him to do on what had ended up her deathbed, if temporarily at that. So her suddenly being alive was a problem.

She'd pressed the heels of her hands to her forehead as her eyes had welled up with tears. Why was she always the problem, always in the way just by living and breathing? It would be more convenient for everyone if she'd just stayed dead.

Laurel had known the choice would be agonizing for Oliver to make. His heart or his responsibilities. So before she'd really thought it through, she'd opened the window to the bedroom and climbed out, taking care not to make much noise on the fire escape as she had descended it.

Now she wandered the streets of her home city, so similar yet in some ways so different than she remembered, confused and distraught. What did she do now? Seek out Thea on whatever mission she was on? Find a way to contact Sara and disappear into time itself? Retreat to some small corner of the earth where no one knew her? She didn't want to just abandon the city or her loved ones, but they couldn't have really wanted her back anyway. After all, none of them had brought her back.

A black van pulled to a crawl beside her and two men got out. A third was slower to do so, but his dark eyes and neck tattoos certainly made him stand out from the rest. "Taking in the fresh air?"

"Yes," she answered slowly. The question didn't sound all that innocent coming from his voice. Even soft as he was speaking, it carried an undercurrent of threat that had the hairs at the back of her neck standing up.

When she turned to keep going, she found her path blocked by one of the two men who'd first stepped out. Hired help, she was starting to suspect. "I'm not sure what this is about, but I'll be on my way."

"So pretending we're strangers is part of the act, too? I wish I could say I was hurt." He nodded to his men and they backed off before he swiftly stepped into her space and took her arm. Laurel tried to jerk out of his hold, but he was far stronger under the suit he wore than she'd thought. "We need to talk about your little trip over the weekend."

Her trip? But then — he thought she was her doppelganger. How many times was this going to keep happening?

Laurel shook her head. "That wasn't me."

"I know Oliver Queen picked you up from the airport. You're not thinking about betraying me again for his crew of psychos and chumps are you?"

Laurel knew she had to act fast. He was moving them towards the car, so if she wanted to try and fight her way out of this — but it was far too public to risk exposing her identity, and she was outnumbered three to one, with at least two of them armed, she could tell.

This man, whoever he was, clearly knew about the team and their identities. He was against Oliver and the others. And she — or her doppelganger — seemed to have some kind of in. Maybe the best thing to do was to play along and see what she could learn. Revealing who she really was didn't seem like the safe option, at any rate.

So Laurel arched an eyebrow and did her best to call up every last bit of scorn and snark she could muster, all the bitterness she'd wrapped herself in during those five years she'd lost Ollie and Sara, her mother and father as well. The year after Tommy's death and Oliver left her once again, when she'd given herself totally over to it. "Psychos?"

"That was your word for Dinah Drake."

Laurel had a problem. She had no idea who Dinah Drake was. And what were the odds that there was some other Dinah in this town than her or her mom? All her go-to comebacks were getting mixed up with digs about bad parenting.

"Maybe I was giving her too much credit."

The man smirked to himself as he held the door open for her, one hand still on the small of her back. Well, in for a penny…

His tattoos looked like dragons, Laurel noted to herself as they slid into the back seat. He also seemed to like invading her personal space. Seriously, what had her doppelganger been into? And couldn't she have warned her? Laurel did her best not to show how uncomfortable she was as they drove to where he was headquartered. She stared out the window with a bored expression all the while tracking the street names and direction they were going in.

He allowed her the silence the whole drive over while the sun set and the sky darkened above. They got out and walked into a building made of concrete and steel.

It held arena-style seating that descended down to a floor space dominated by a raised platform for spars or matches. Two men fought on it, their belongings resting on a table to the side. Along with their guns.

Trying not to make it seem like she was making a beeline for them, Laurel wandered over to the table and perched on it, crossing her legs.

"She returns," a man with a noticeable Russian accent remarked. Laurel sneered vaguely at him. Great, another person she was supposed to know. He eyed her a little closer, murmuring, "You do not seem… yourself."

Laurel's heart jumped, but she worked to keep her cool and crossed her arms. "And who else would I be?"

"Not sure."

Dragon Tattoos Man walked back over her way after instructing the men sparring to keep going, and he now motioned the Russian man to back off as well. He stopped in front of Laurel and took out some sort of handheld device, flicking it on. Laurel leaned back, but he cupped her jaw to hold her in place.

"No, no, just stay right there." At the near-whisper, his voice still seemed to carry that promise of violence if she stepped one toe over a line. "This wouldn't be necessary, but I have to make sure you're really listening. And that you're not planning any cute tricks with that pretty little voice of yours."

It was some kind of inhibitor for her Cry? Laurel wasn't sure how it was supposed to work, but she didn't feel any different. Something told her she should be.

"Whatever you get up to, whether that's here or in Russia or somewhere else, you come to me first," he commanded. "That's the only way this works. This family has to work together. Do you understand that? We have the police. We'll have City Hall once Oliver Queen is ousted. One person just out of step makes the plan fall apart. My plan for this city that will get those vigilantes permanently out of your hair." He reached out and tucked the strands hanging to her right behind her ear, and Laurel only just barely suppressed a shudder of fear. "Isn't that what you really want?"

What her doppelganger had really wanted, clearly, was to be free of everyone, including this guy and his whole crew. Again, really nice of her not to give her a head's up!

When he backed up a step, she could see the Russian man was still watching her with a troubled expression. Laurel knew she needed to figure out something to say. "Of course."

Inside, her mind and heart were racing. Dragon Man wanted to take over the city, and he already knew who Oliver and the others all were. Therefore he knew their weaknesses.

Except hers.

Whatever he thought that device was doing to dampen her powers, it wasn't working. Whether it was simply broken or meant only for her doppelganger, Laurel didn't know. But she was only going to have one shot at this.

The Russian man was slowly walking around towards Dragon Man. Somehow he had clocked her, whether he knew who she really was or thought she was just lying about her loyalties. She needed to act now.

Laurel's hand closed around the gun sitting behind her on the table, and she brought it around, firing into the shoulders of the two men who had brought her here with their boss. The Russian and Dragon Man both managed to dodge out of the way of her next shots, so Laurel grabbed the second gun and pushed the table over, jumping behind it for cover.

Bullets dented the front of it as some of the other men started firing. She traded fire, doing her best to make each shot count as she picked off man after man. It was impossible to control if all her shots were non-lethal, but if it came down to their lives or the innocent people of this city, she knew which choice she was making. It was a choice her father, her sister and Oliver had all made in their own lives, and she wasn't about to hold back.

Laurel ducked as another bullet just narrowly missed her right shoulder. She spun on the balls of her feet where she was crouched to see more men trying to circle back around her on the raised steps.

Drawing a deep breath, she let loose her Cry, impacting the stands and causing everyone standing on them to fall. She kept pouring power into it, feeling the floor shaking as the stairs started to crumble.

Laurel felt a sharp yank on her hair as she was dragged up over the table. Her scream went up and hit the ceiling for a moment before she gave a gasp at the stinging of her scalp. The man with the dragon tattoos jammed the handheld device in her face, eyes blazing in fury. Laurel refused to even blink.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" He roared in her face.

"What a hero would do." She let out another scream, watching him fly across the room to land in a heap. From this distance, she couldn't tell if he was breathing or not. She'd have to check, but otherwise—

A gun cocked and she froze. The Russian emerged from the side where he'd been hiding. Laurel raised her own gun to point right back at him.

"You are out. I counted," he said with confidence. Earned confidence, because Laurel had counted as well. She grit her teeth. "You are Oliver Queen's Dinah Laurel Lance, yes?"

There was no use lying at this point. "How did you know?"

"I was long-time friend of Oliver Queen before he betrayed the _Bratva_. I took the liberty of learning his background." He inclined his head towards her. "And his loved ones."

A Bratva man, and one Oliver had apparently pissed off. That figured.

"You have ruined my hopes for revenge quite well."

"Can't say I'm sorry," she admitted with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

He didn't look all that upset anyway. His gun was still trained on her. "I have better idea now. You may say I am adaptable."

So it was this game, was it? Well, unlike with Darhk, she wasn't immobilized by magic. And she was so sick of getting murdered for some man's revenge.

"I still have a weapon," she reminded him.

He kept smiling. "But listen. Hear metal groaning?"

She did. The structure of the building was unstable.

"You will bring walls down. On both of us, I think. Would hero like you risk that?"

She could end this right now and likely die in the process, barely a day after she'd gotten her life back. Or she could die from a gunshot wound to teach Oliver some kind of twisted lesson. Laurel knew which she would prefer.

She'd nearly been crushed under a building once. Maybe it was always supposed to end this way.

The Russian's smile faltered when she smiled right back. "Start running."

He took one step back, then another as Laurel drew in a breath. He wasn't going to make it, of course. She'd bury this whole crime operation before they could enact whatever plan to harm Oliver and the others first. Make this brief second chance count so they would all be alright.

"_SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"_

Oliver sped down the streets on his bike, looking for any flash of that familiar blonde hair. Quentin had already checked the places familiar to Laurel and turned up nothing. Whether Laurel was disoriented or simply trying not to be found, he didn't know.

He'd asked the man to wait with William for an hour or so while he made his own search. Quentin has tactfully chosen not to ask where Felicity was, but Oliver knew it would have to be discussed with his son.

He was starting to wonder if Samantha had been right all those years ago about his life being too unstable to raise a child in. So much happened even in just the span of a week: Thea gone; his and Felicity's relationship finally falling apart the way he probably should have just let it after their failure of an engagement the first time; Laurel back. Assuming he could find her. Assuming she still wanted to be here.

Had he done too much to push her away? Did she feel out of place knowing that they'd let her doppelganger take over her life? If he could have done something, he would have, but there had simply been no way to expose Siren to the public without tarnishing Laurel's reputation.

He would search for another hour before he needed to go back and see that William was fed and got to bed. Laurel had left Quentin's credit card behind. She couldn't get far in the time that would take.

His comm crackled to life unexpectedly. It seemed his team had chosen to stick around after all.

"_GA,"_ said Curtis' voice. _"There's a report of a building collapse out in the warehouse district. No known cause."_

Oliver frowned. If he went to check that out, he'd be stopping his search for Laurel even sooner than he'd planned. But there could be people in the rubble of that building who needed help.

"I'm on it."

"_Spartan, Wild Dog and Black Canary will meet you there."_

He couldn't quite stop himself from cringing. Why had they all insisted on giving Dinah the exact same codename as Laurel? Yes, she had asked him to keep her legacy going, but Laurel had forged her own identity as the Black Canary separate from her sister's time in the field. And Sara had taken her own path with the Legends. Had he just been that desperate to fill the missing hole in his life that he'd given Laurel's name and place away?

Just as Oliver pulled up to the wreckage, Curtis' voice came back over the comm again. _"I'm digging into the building's records, and it doesn't seem like anybody good owned it. Lots of shell accounts trying to keep me from finding the source. I'd be careful, GA."_

"Got it." Oliver left his bike and looked for a safe entry point. It was tough going squeezing himself through gaps in the rubble and twisted metal. He first came across a couple men trapped under a wall. Both were unconscious, yet were also curiously facing in towards the main room rather than looking as though they'd been heading for the exit.

Oliver's foot kicked something on the ground, and he watched the handgun skid across the floor. Curtis had definitely been right about his hunch.

"We're going to need a lot of EMTs," Oliver said into his comm. "Multiple injuries. Some possible fatalities. Looks like a shootout that got interrupted by something bad."

There was a massive arena space carved out in the middle, but the stairs leading down looked like they'd been impacted with a bomb for all the use they were. He shot a grapple arrow and rugged it a few times to test it before using it rappel down to the ground floor.

He spotted more men here and there. Some had been crushed while others bled from gunshot wounds. Oliver walked around a slab of concrete and froze.

Diaz was lying there, his bottom half trapped under the slab and dried blood coating the right side of his neck from the ear down. His breath was coming, though shallowly at that.

"Hoss!"

Oliver looked up to see Rene and Dinah had both arrived and were carefully making their way down to meet him.

"It's Diaz and his men," Oliver told them. "Not sure what happened yet."

"Why would Diaz wreck his own place?" Dinah asked. He shrugged.

A low groan had him leaving Diaz's side and looking for the source. Both of his eyebrows raised upon finding his former brother and friend slowly crawling out from under some wreckage. He held a hand over his left thigh, and it dragged limply behind him.

"Anatoly."

The former _Pahkan_ squinted up at him. Two of his teeth were chipped. "She can sing."

"She?"

"Brought house down, very literally." Anatoly attempted a chuckle but cut off with a pained wheeze. His head dropped back onto the floor. "I give her credit. She called bluff." His eye slipped closed and his breathing evened out as he lost consciousness.

Oliver turned slowly in a circle, the seemingly random damage suddenly making a horrible amount of sense.

"Laurel."

"Huh?" Rene was only ten feet away now, and Dinah was close behind.

"This was Laurel. She used her Cry and took out Diaz."

Dinah scowled. "Which one?"

"Mine," Oliver snapped, unthinking. He shook his head and amended, "The one from this Earth."

She must have been picked up by Diaz or his men and realized what the crime lord was planning, then made her move. She wouldn't have thought anything of such a self-sacrificial play; she was always so giving. Lord, what if she—?

Some sheets of metal were propped up by a beam near the center of the room. Just poking out from under the metal, a hand lay palm-up.

Oliver raced over, heart in his throat. God, please, not again. He wouldn't survive seeing this. Not Laurel, not just like Tommy—

He pushed the metal up to see her lying there with a gash on her forehead but her body otherwise intact. The support beam was tilted over her at an angle, and had protected her.

He looked back to his teammates who both remained watching him. "Help me. Please."

Warily, Rene stepped forward. He was the only one. Wild Dog took over holding up the metal so that he could reach in to the small pocket of space it had created around Laurel. Oliver felt himself trembling with relief as he pulled Laurel out and cradled her in his arms. The cut looked superficial and could heal. Some bruising was rising as well, and he noticed her one ankle was bent at an awkward angle. Twisted, perhaps when she had fallen. But survivable.

"We have to get her to the base. She can't be found here."

"Spartan has the van out front," Dinah said. She turned her back and started making her way to the exit.

Oliver took a grapple arrow back up to the top with one arm wrapped securely around Laurel, then did his best to get out of the building with both speed and care. John was waiting with the van like Dinah had said, and he got out as Oliver approached.

"Lyla says DHS is on their way. They're gonna take custody of Diaz and his men that survived." He looked down at Laurel. "This is the one you picked up at the airport?"

Oliver nodded, watching closely as John drew in a breath through his nose and pressed his lips tight together. A conflict was warring in his eyes, and he reached out to check the cut on her forehead the same as Oliver had.

"It— I don't know. She _looks_ like her. Crazy as that sounds, cause Siren does, but—"

"No, I know," Oliver agreed quietly. There was a softness to her features that Siren just hadn't had, even in times like these where she might have been incapacitated. Different circumstances, different ways to cope. He had to wonder what she'd make of things now, with Diaz and all his cronies decidedly out of the picture. Would she have ever thought her Earth 1 counterpart capable, weak as she'd thought Laurel was?

"We need to get her to the Bunker. Treat her injuries." Oliver was loath to let her go, but he needed to bring his bike back to the base as well. He placed her carefully onto one of the long seats in the back of the van and strapped her in with the seatbelts.

"I'll be careful," John promised before he could even ask.

"Thank you."

He sped back to the base, using the headset in his helmet to place a call to Lance asking him to come down with William. It was going to have to be a later night than he'd anticipated for his son, but Oliver needed to keep an eye on both situations, so it just couldn't be helped.

He arrived in time to carry her down as John went ahead to get the medical cot ready. Curtis stood as he brought her into the room.

"Okay, just- just right into the Bunker. We're just going all in."

"It's her, Curtis." He was about reaching his limit with having to insist this.

John bandaged the cut and wrapped her ankle. "We'll wait a little longer, see if she can wake up on her own."

Oliver nodded. He took up Laurel's hand and stood sentry as Curtis slowly moved back to the computers and John went into the back to change out of his suit.

Rene and Dinah arrived and also went to change, skirting around Laurel's medical cot. Just as they both disappeared into the back, Laurel's head turned and her fingers flexed in his hold.

"Mnff." She made a face and squinted up at the overhead light.

"Laurel?"

"...Ollie?"

He quickly motioned John to come over, and as his friend moved into her field of vision, he saw her eyes light up. "John."

John paused for just a moment. "Laurel. How are you feeling?"

"Like I hit my head pretty bad."

"That's cause you probably did. Let me check your vision." He helped her to sit up and started shining a light and running a few small tests. As John moved through them, Oliver could see his growing confidence in Laurel's true identity.

Dinah and Rene returned, both of them choosing to hang back with Curtis.

"Seems like you avoided the worst of a concussion," John remarked.

"Well, that's good." Laurel squeezed Oliver's hand briefly since he was still holding it and smiled up at both of them. Her gaze ended up focusing on John. "I'm really glad to see you."

"You too. The real you," John told her with a smile.

The elevator dinged again as the doors opened, and William hurried up to the platform they were on. "Dad?"

"Hey, buddy." He left Laurel's side for a moment in order to crouch down and hug his son. "How was practice?"

"Good. What's going on?" William looked over his shoulder, seeming uncertain. Oliver turned and saw Laurel watching them with both confusion and interest. Of course, the last she had known he had sent William away to safety with Samantha. If only that could have lasted for them both.

He brought William over with a hand on his shoulder. "We're just helping a friend. Will, you remember what I told you about my friend, Laurel?"

Oliver slowly brought William closer with him. Laurel sat up a little straighter. "Hi, William. It's good to see you again."

William cocked his head. "I thought you died."

Oliver winced, but Laurel seemed to take the question innocently as it was. "Well, I did. And now I'm alive again."

"Yeah, she and her sister are both good at that." Quentin walked up to his daughter's bedside. "They're also both good at getting themselves into trouble and worrying me half to death."

"Sorry, dad." Laurel winced a little when Quentin rested a hand over the bandage on her forehead.

"So what happened here?"

"A bit of metal. From a building?" Laurel admitted.

"Whose building?"

"I… don't actually know. This guy with some dragon tattoos on his neck?"

Quentin gaped at her. "You walked right into Diaz's—"

"I wasn't trying to. He picked me up. Then he was talking about taking over the city and getting rid of Oliver, so I couldn't really let that happen."

Oliver looked down, trying to hide a smile at her matter-of-fact explanation. Trust Laurel to stumble on the annual terrorist threat and cut it off at the knees. That she'd been concerned about him specifically filled him with a sense of familiar comfort.

Quentin was shaking his head. "Of all the things! And what exactly made you take off earlier, huh?"

Laurel's eyes darted briefly in Oliver's direction before she looked down. "I guess I just needed to walk around a bit to get my bearings. And I — oh, Curtis," Laurel said, spotting the man when she turned her head. "Did you join the team full-time?"

"Uh, yeah," Curtis replied, coming forward a little. "I'm Mister Terrific."

"That's pretty terrific," she remarked. "I, um, don't think I know either of you two."

Rene took one step forward. "Rene. Codename is Wild Dog."

"Funny, I trained with a Wildcat," Laurel told him with a smile. "And you?" She asked Dinah.

Dinah shook her head. "It doesn't matter." Then she turned and walked to the elevator.

Laurel's smile fell, and she looked back at Oliver. "Did I say something wrong?"

He gave a quick shake of the head. "It's not your fault. I'll just—" He patted William on the shoulder once before heading to intercept Dinah. Oliver made sure to keep his voice lowered. "Hey, I know you're upset about Siren being in the wind."

"Yeah, I am," Dinah replied, having the courtesy to use a similar volume. "Look, your Laurel… you're right, she's everything you said she was. But I can't look at her knowing what she — what the other her did to Vince."

Oliver bowed his head. "That's fair. What does that mean about your place on the team?"

She smirked. "What place? I'm not needed anymore, am I? Felicity wasn't the only one you've been using as a replacement."

"I…" He wished he could say something for himself, something that made it seem kinder.

"Look, I appreciate what I did here with you all. But I need to find my own path and my own closure." She pushed the button for the elevator. "Try not to screw whatever you had with her up this time, okay? You're running out of fallback girls."

"Right," he agreed with chagrin. Dinah stepped into the open elevator and gave a short wave as the doors closed.

Oliver rejoined the others, and Laurel asked, "Is everything okay?"

"It is. That was Dinah."

"Dinah Drake? The one that hates my doppelganger?"

At his surprised look, Laurel added, "Diaz or whatever his name was mentioned."

"Oh. Well, yes. She doesn't blame you, but she's going to be taking some time to herself. Off the team."

Rene grimaced and nodded, seeming to have expected it. John looked about the same, and Curtis sighed.

Laurel, for her part, groaned. "I'm screwing everything up for you." She placed her face in her hands and mumbled, nearly inarticulately, "She shouldn't have brought me back."

Oliver felt his heart miss a beat. "Can we have the room?"

Rene and Curtis granted the request easily enough, and John willingly took charge of William. Quentin lingered, but when Oliver sent him a meaningful look, the other man seemed to understand and also made himself scarce. Oliver brought Curtis' chair over to Laurel's bedside so that they were on a more even level.

"What do you mean?" When she just looked at him, Oliver continued, "You're not screwing anything up. Dinah was, she was spiraling because of a personal loss. Hopefully, your doppelganger being gone will give her the space to grieve properly. And even if it doesn't, that certainly doesn't qualify as 'everything'."

"I heard you and dad talking," Laurel admitted. "About how you felt. And… about Felicity."

Oliver's eyes squeezed shut. _That's_ why she had fled. Laurel had heard him voicing his internal worries and regrets and had interpreted it to mean she was the problem. Not how he'd handled losing her and leaning on other people to fill her role in his life.

"None of that is your fault," he told her. "And no amount of changes in my life as a result of you being here would _ever_ make me wish you weren't. I'm grateful for what she did, whatever her reasons." He doubted it had been with him in mind. Oliver took one of Laurel's hands. "And I'm grateful for the changes. They needed to happen. I wasn't being honest to Felicity, and I was expecting Dinah to be someone she isn't. Because no one else is you, Laurel. Not even your doppelganger from another Earth."

She licked her lips and looked down at their joined hands. "What happens now?"

"Well, now I'm thinking we need to see how everything works out with Diaz's incarceration. We'll have to remove the officers and public officials he had in his pocket and vet the ones he was threatening to see if they can be safely kept on or not," Oliver listed off. "Then, once _all_ of that is done and your ankle's healed up and we've made sure you don't have a concussion or anything, I think I'm going to take you on a date."

Laurel looked up at that. "Ollie, you don't — is that really going to work? What about William? I'm not saying you have to stay with Felicity if you don't want to, but he's used to her by now. He needs time to adjust before some other woman just waltzes into his life."

Oliver wondered if she realized that his son being her first concern was only proof positive that it very well could work. "I know. But we'll take it slow. Introduce you to him over time. I want to do this right, Laurel, for both of you. For us. I love you, and I can't lie about that anymore when I've been given a chance like this."

She stared at him, watching his face for some kind of hesitance or indecision. At last, she gave the slightest nod. "Okay."

He half-stood to meet her lips in a slow kiss, one that was more about breathing the other in than it was about mouths moving against each other's. Laurel's hands rose up to cradle his face and he placed his own at the back of her head, holding her there. He caressed her gently, mindful of her injuries but also half-terrified it all might disappear if he made too sudden a movement.

"Well, I'd say you've made your intentions pretty clear," Laurel murmured in the space between them.

Oliver hummed in the affirmative. "And you've once again saved my ass. All in a day's work. I've missed that. I've missed you, Pretty Bird."

Laurel paused. "What was that?"

He blinked and pulled back a little. "I don't know. Your doppelganger called you a bird or birdie a lot. I guess I just — sorry."

Laurel shook her head. "No, I like it." She caught her bottom lip between her teeth for a single moment, then asked, "Say it again?"

He found himself smiling as he leaned back in, ghosting the words over her lips. "Pretty Bird."

Their various tasks and responsibilities would catch up to them soon enough, but for this moment, it was just the two of them.


End file.
